Paper Faces
by phantomphangrl
Summary: Christine goes to the New Years Masquerade Ball and learns some shocking information
1. Chapter 1

**Paper Faces **

I stood in front of the mirror carefully pinning up the rest of my bouncing curls. I was almost ready. I turned to look at the small clock sitting on my desk in the corner of my dressing room. Nine twenty.

I quickly examined my costume in the full length mirror before me. It was stunning. The gown was a sage color with a flattering bodice and lace trim along the square neckline. The skirt was bustled in the back and quite voluminous compared to my everyday dresses. I would never be able to afford such a dress on my meager dancer's salary. I had to remember to find Meg at the end of the evening, so we could return it to the costume department. She had borrowed a beautiful, but rather over the top costume from Il Muto.

Giggles and rushed footsteps could be heard from outside my door, as my fellow dancers hurried to the New Years masquerade party. They were headed to the main hall and grand staircase, where the ball was being held; the perfect place to show off the exquisite architecture of the opera house. I took one last look in the mirror to add the finishing touches. I clasped a black ribbon necklace, with a round opal pendant around my neck and stared back at myself. Something was missing. I took the rose from my desk and gently pinned the flower in my hair. I quickly grabbed my white and silver domino mask and was out the door.

Making my way through the maze of halls I realized everyone must already be at the party. Reaching the double doors at the end of the last hall, I entered the masquerade ball.

This was my first masquerade and it was like nothing I could have ever imagined. Hundreds of people crowed the main hall and staircase. My eyes could barely focus on anything with all of the bright colors dancing before my eyes. I took several minutes to simply stand there in wonder and take in the scene.

The first floor, where I was standing, was used as the dance floor. Colorful costumes twirled around in time with the small orchestra playing just above them on the second floor balcony. I recognized Monsieur Reyer leading them in a cheerful song and looking just as professional as ever, despite the chaos surrounding him.

On the other second floor balconies I saw couples laughing and drinking from sparkling crystal Champaign glasses; the sound of chatter and laughter coming from all directions. As my eyes continued to travel upwards to the other level balconies, I found similar scenes of cheerful masked party-goers.

Finally overcoming my awe enough to be mobile, I looked at the crowd in front of me. I instantly regretted not leaving with the other dancers. 'How on earth will I find anyone I know?' I asked myself, as I looked around at all the masks. I roamed through the crowd, looking for the Il Muto gown Meg had chosen.

Without realizing, I walked through the mass of chattering guests, and straight into the dance floor. I tried to quickly remove myself from getting in the way, but I was engulfed in a swarm of spinning, masked couples. The dancers around me were oblivious to my attempts to escape. The sound of music and a thousand voices drowned me out and left me feeling hopeless.

I suddenly sensed someone behind me; someone who was not dancing. Feeling half relieved and half shocked that someone had come to my rescue, I whirled around to face them, the hem of my dress swirling at my feet.

I gasped at the sight before me. It was a man. This fact alone is not what shocked me; I was at party after all. What set him apart was the cold, distant, yet passionate and dangerous air that seemed to radiate from him. He was dressed formally, but nothing in his outfit made him stand out, except perhaps its simplicity. He wore a charcoal black waistcoat, overcoat, and gloves. His white cravat was tied fashionably around his neck and, as I looked down at his feet, I noticed that his shiny black boots were surprisingly spotless. Which I found rather odd, the streets were rather dirty this time of year. He looked like he was dressed for the opera, except for the gold mask that covered his entire face.

The gold, expressionless mask unnerved me as I stood there looking up at him stupidly. I was about to attempt to scurry away in the other direction, when he gave me a small, graceful bow and out stretched a gloved hand to me. I looked up, into his eyes. All my thoughts blurred as I stared into those stormy-grey orbs. Without breaking eye contact, I placed my hand in his.

What happened next seemed almost like a dream. He swept me into his arms and began to lead me into a dance as the music changed. The new song seemed to be some sort of tango. It was slower than the previous songs, but much more passionate. I felt like I was floating as he swept me across the dance floor. His graceful step never missed a beat.

My eyes never left his and his mine. His gaze was tender and despite being in the arms of a man I have never meet, I felt oddly safe and at ease. There was something else in his eyes I tried to decipher as we danced. Was it sadness, pain, hope, bliss… or something else? I could not tell.

We danced together perfectly, as if we have done so for years. My heart was beating rapidly as he spun me in a circle and expertly drew me back to him as we continued to dance. It was as if no one else existed in that crowded hall, except for him and I. Looking into his eyes I forgot everything else and let myself go to the bliss I felt in that moment.

The dance ended too soon for my liking. I think he was also upset by the end of the dance, because he held on to me for several moments after the dance had ended. His passionate gaze met my euphoric one for the last time. He hesitated for a split second before leaving the embrace. Without a word he gave me an apologetic look and a small elegant bow and disappeared as mysteriously as he had come.

Once he was gone, I finally remembered to breathe. Regaining my senses, I found myself at the outskirts of the mob of dancers. He had rescued me. My eyes darted around the ornate hall, searching for the man whose name I didn't even know.

Not seeing him anywhere, I returned to my former task of looking for Meg. Roaming through the crowds, I could not abandon the strange emotions he left me with. _Who was he? Does he work at the Opera House? Have I seen him before? Will I see him again?..._

"Christine! Christine, over here!" Meg's voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned around trying to locate the direction of her voice.

I saw her by the stairs, beneath a gold, life-size statue of a woman, perched on the top of the wide marble railing. I made my way over to her and saw she was with two men. One taller, was dressed as a court jester. He wore a full white mask, complete with a crafty smile. On his head was a hat with three points all in different directions, and his outfit was black with gold buttoned down the front and gold embroidery. His black cape, with red lining completed the look. His outrageous costume fit in quite well. Next to him was a slightly shorter man, dressed as a soldier. He wore a small dark blue domino that matched his soldier's costume. As I looked at his friendly eyes, I slowly began to recognize him.

"Christine Daaé? Is that you?" the man I recognized to be my dear childhood friend, moved to lift off his mask.

"Raoul! You must not remove your mask until midnight! That is the only rule of the masquerade; I cannot allow you to break it, brother." The man I recognized as Philippe de Chagny, Raoul's older brother scolded him merrily.

I gave a happy laugh, "there is no need to break the rules Raoul, I remember you. How could I forget the boy who braved the cold ocean to rescue my scarf?" He smiled at the memory with me.

"It was my pleasure to help out such a lovely lady and good friend" He replied.

"It is like they never parted. They have always been quite the little love birds." Philippe said loudly to Meg who giggled flirtatiously at him, as Raoul and Christine blushed. "We should leave them to catch up. Would you care for a drink, my dear?" Philippe asked Meg, leading her up the stairs.

**

Raoul and I shared as many memories as we could, until the noise made it impossible to continue. Then he asked me for a dance to which I happily agreed. He led me to the dance floor and we began to dance together to a lovely waltz.

My experience dancing with Raoul was very different from my dance earlier that evening. Although he was a more than adequate dancer, he lacked the ghostly grace of my previous partner. There was also something slightly less romantic about this dance. It seemed too light hearted and friendly. Not like the passionate tango from earlier.

I did my best to force these thoughts from my mind. I was very fond of Raoul, and I did not know anything about the man I meet earlier. I would surely never meet him again. It is best that I just try and forget. I felt ashamed for thinking about dancing with another man while I was in Raoul's embrace. I put on a big smile for him and put a new energy in my step, causing him to smile back at me.

All of a sudden the music stopped. We heard a several gasps and a few cries of terror. Everyone looked around, searching for the cause of the drastic turn in the formerly merry festivities. All eyes rested on the red figure at the top of the staircase. A hush fell over the party as he slowly, deliberately, made his way down the steps. He wore a terrifying mask, resembling a skull and a lavish red costume. He was the Red Death.

"Why so silent? Why do you not welcome your Opera Ghost?" His voice was harsh, yet oddly musical. Everyone stared, fascinated and frightened.

"You! How dare you?" Firmin's voice, the opera house manager, demanded, breaking the silence. The other manager, Andre, stepped out of the crowd as well, to defend his business partner.

"I was about to ask you two the very same question. I will no longer tolerate this horrible disrespect of your humble Phantom. I am here tonight to give you one last warning. You will be wise to not let my demands go ignored, as they have been these past several months. I have been more than patient. You will promptly see to it that my salary is paid, including the past few months that you have missed. In addition to paying your debt, I want box five to be reserved for my use once again, and I want my opera to be the first performance of the New Year." He pulled out a large, bound manuscript and tossed it to the ground.

He stared around at all the eyes staring back at him. He stared them all down with a calm anger. Then his eyes stopped in their tracks as they rested on Raoul and I. I was staring back with wide eyes as Raoul held on to me protectively, not realizing what was transpiring between myself and this menacing specter. Then, the Red Death stepped back and gave the crowd one last look as he became engulfed in flames and vanished completely.

Once he disappeared, chaos returned, as voices took over the room once more. The managers, looking terribly stressed and weary, went over to collect the abandoned manuscript. Raoul looked down at me, hiding in his arms.

"Are you alright, Christine?" He asked, looking at my shocked expression. I tried to cover up the emotions that were raging inside me.

"Yes, I am fine. I am just feeling rather tired all of a sudden. Do you think you could help me back to my room? I would very much like to get some sleep." I asked him, avoiding his concerned gaze.

"Yes, of course. Whatever you need Christine." He replied. He walked me back down the winding halls. A few others also decided they had enough excitement and were returning to their rooms as well. When we reached my dressing room he gave me one last embrace, and said goodnight.

I wearily entered my room and closed the door. As soon as the door closed, I fell to my knees sobbing. After a few moments I did my best to pull myself together. I could sense his presence. He was there with me.

I angrily lifted myself up, wiped my tears away, and stood before the mirror.

"Why?! Why did you lie to me? You are no angel! You are the Phantom of the Opera! You are a man!" I demanded, pounding my tiny fists against the cool surface of the mirror.

I knew he was there, but he did not answer me.

"Who are you?"

* * *

_**Happy New Year! Thanks for reading. I would love to hear what you think if you have a moment! **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Its been a while and I have finally come back to finish this. However after doing some rereading I decided that I didn't like the direction the original second chapter was going in, so I have rewriten it and completely changed the plot. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 2 **

"_Who are you?" _

She stood in silence shaking with emotion and awaiting an answer. Almost three years of tutelage and she knows nothing about her teacher! She collapsed onto the stool of her small vanity horrified as she remembered all the times she had poured her heart out to this… stranger! She tried in vain to recall at least one fact that she knew about this man for sure. She didn't know his name, she didn't know what he looked like, she didn't know if he was dangerous… if he was the Opera Ghost…

'Of course he is! Stop pretending it's not obvious.' Her mind berated her. She shuddered at the memories of all the terrible crimes the phantom was guilty of here at the Opera House.

The cold stillness of the room made Christine aware that she was once again alone. Her once cozy dressing room became cold with the absence of her angel's presence.

"There is _no_ Angel of Music!" Christine exclaimed to the emptiness. As she finally said what she knew all along her heart broke. She weakly moved herself into bed and cried until she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Christine! Christine!" Christine awoke to the sound of Meg Giry pounding her tiny fist against the dressing room door and shouting her name. "Are you awake yet? Our dresses need to be returned to the costume department, or Madame Thomas will have our heads!"

Christine managed to pull herself out of bed and open the door for a frazzled Meg. "My goodness, Christine!" Meg's expression looked horrified as she examined her friend. "You slept in your gown?"

"Oh, I must have fallen asleep." Christine said, still exhausted of all emotion and energy.

"Are you alright? What happened last night? You left so quickly after the Phantom's appearance…"

"I'm fine Meg." She said, doing her best to reassure her friend. "I just became tired after all the excitement, I am sorry for running off so quickly." Meg did not look entirely convinced, but did not pursue the subject further.

Christine always confided in Meg. Since they were just young girls beginning classes at the opera ballet, they shared everything with each other. They knew each other's deepest thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams. Meg was there for her when she was first faced with the grief and sorrow of her father's death. She helped her at a time when she lost everything she knew and loved. There were no secrets between them - until she heard _his_ voice…

Christine pushed back emotions threatening to compromise her composure yet again. She was far from prepared to deal with the thoughts, emotions and questions surrounding her mysterious angel. Not yet.

"Meg?" Christine asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence with a new tone. "Didn't you mention something happening in the set storage room beneath the stage this evening?"

"Yes, Sorelli and some of the other dancers meet down there most Sunday nights after hours. They usually manage to gather quite a crowd, and quite a bit of wine." She replied with a mischievous grin.

"Why Mademoiselle Daaè! You are not considering participating in such a scandalous affair?" Meg gave an exaggerated gasp of surprise, scarcely able to conceal her grin.

Christine returned her grin with a genuine smile, the first in a while. "I suppose I am."

* * *

"This way!" Meg Giry directed the group of half a dozen giggling dancers in a hushed tone. They all did their best to remain quiet, all of them knew the possibility of encountering their employer, the managers, or even worse Madam Giry, and the trouble they would be faced with if they did. However, that seemed to make the situation even more hilarious for these young women.

Christine felt an adrenaline rush as she followed Meg, along with the rest of the small group of her peers. She felt that she had filled a part of her that had been missing, like rejoining a family, or perhaps a sisterhood. She had studied with these girls in the ballet daily, but she was rarely, if ever, sought out to participate in such gatherings. Christine let joy take over and allowed herself to become lost in the experience, determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

The ballerinas scurried around corners and down the dimly lit, winding corridors of the Opera, like a pack of mischievous mice. The sound of light footsteps, hushed whispers and laughter followed them.

"Hush!" Meg turned around once more and gave her friends a stern look.

"Yes, Madame." Came a mocking voice from the group. The comment was immediately followed by smothered giggles from the rest of the girls. Christine hid her face from her friend, which was covered with evidence of her amusement. Meg rolled her eyes in annoyance and continued down the hall.

A few turns later they came to a large, barn-style door. Meg reached out and knocked on the heavy wood of the door in front of them. Moments later, the door rolled back a few inches, revealing a young man's face peering back at them through the opening.

"Frederic." Meg addressed the face.

"Little Giry" Frederic smiled, recognizing her. "We were wondering when you would finally arrive. Right this way, mademoiselles." He stepped aside and the door rolled back a couple feet allowing them to file inside.

'_It is going to be an interesting evening_,' Christine smiled to herself, steping inside. She was ready to embrace her little escape of blissful ignorance.

* * *

**If you've got a moment to spare I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks! :) - AZ **


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